Don't Ask, Don't Tell
by Nuns N' Bagels
Summary: Matt's sister is finally back after a mysterious accident that she won't talk about. Please be kind, I'm not good with descriptions. REWRITE
1. Where's Your Pepper Spray?

AN: Rewritten and reposted as of 01/08/12. I am going to try this again, because I had rewatched some of the Death Note series, and looked at this story again. I _cringed_. Should anyone see this and, say, want to yell at me for leaving this for years, I would appreciate it. Sometimes I need a kick in the pants.

Rated M for language.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Where's Your Pepper Spray**

**(Or, Damn Airport Security)**

"Where are they?" is an incredibly stupid question to ask in an incredibly crowded airport because the only person to answer you is a random passing by, who, if they deign to answer you, will give some unoriginal and snarky remark something like 'Not here, lady,' with a chance of adding, 'But _I _am' or some equally stupid come-on. In short, I shouldn't have asked, but I did, and thankfully no one saw it as their duty to answer me.

I tried to jump a bit, to see over the crowd, maybe, but it's the simple things in life that you miss when your mobility is restricted. I hissed through my teeth, worried my lip, and stood on tip-toe to get a look for someone who obviously wasn't there. I briefly struggled with the urge to call over one of the airport's security men, to call over the PA system with the cover story that I was looking for a child, but, _However childlike he is, he won't be pleased. _Another thought, just as short lived brought up the consideration of a new case being perhaps more engrossing than a drive to the airport, but no, Wammy would have come, by himself if the others were busy- if _he_ was busy. No. It would be traffic, maybe, something mundane that requires patience.

I should mention now that I don't have much in the way of patience, that it was spent and that my leg hurt, oh god, but I was already over my limit for the next four hours so I would have to endure for a little while longer. I leaned against a wall where there wasn't much in the way of movement, next to a causeway declared to be for PILOTS ONLY, as if that were any reason to be keeping me out. But I didn't bother to go in, because my lovely detectives only have to bail me out, and I would be making an impression on people and they would remember my face. How awful.

No. What was _awful_ was not knowing where they _were._ I mean, how could four absolutely world-class _brilliant_ men forget their way to the airport that they must have used from themselves? I shook my head, smiled, because they must have used a map. To read one, of course, is no issue. Topographical, geopolitical, satellite photographic, there was no doubt that each of them could read every kind with ease. Folding a map back up, however, happens to be a completely different matter. I remembered a certain road trip with the four detectives when we were young, at a rest stop along the way. We thought we would impress Watari with our deductive skills by plotting our course from where we had been and assuming our route to wherever it was we were going. While we argued about how best to fold up the map, we ripped the paper and were trying to tape it back together before Watari returned. Instead, a certain girl was caught in the act of trying to tear the tape with her teeth and unsnarl her hands her hands from the tangle. They had never really let me live it down.

I was trying to remember the exact route we'd taken, the names of the towns we'd passed through, the colors of the cows and such mundane things when a hot and violating wind gusted in my ear. Breath. "Hey there, pretty girl," it said. Predictable. Boring. The only more dull and scripted thing it could have said was maybe 'Well, well, what do we have here?' Instead, he finished with, "Need a ride?" and a sleazy laugh. Not original, but two points for the innuendo and managing to make it without laughing. Maybe he was too drunk to see his own pun and laugh, _look who made a funny!_

But God, wasn't this typical. Let me know if you've heard this before: a small, weak girl standing by herself in a secluded area is approached by one or more drunken men intent on on 'getting some'. Oh, so you've heard it? Yeah, because it's what every girl is warned about since she gets her first bra and is used so frequently in stories as the best point for a knight in shining armor to leap in and save the day. It was dull, and worse_, predictable!_

I was about to tell him this when his hands ran up over my ribcage. Reality slammed down on me the same time my cane slammed on the ground beside my Duffel. They should have been enough to alert a security man, everyone within the vicinity, but who can even hear their own thoughts in a a cavern filled with other people who act so much more important? There was no _clatter_, no _thump_, just a thudding in my chest. There was an errant thought- _God,_ _how clich__é-_before I could focus. Damn, how could those pills not kill the pain, but distract me like that? Now I wished I knew something about organic chemistry. Too late.

"Come on, sweet thing," the first crooned. _Sorry, did I accidentally fly into Clich__é__ville? I mean, seriously, this shit has to be a joke. _I limped backwards down the PILOTS ONLY causeway. Where in the hell were those pilots, anyway? It was the exact perfect time for one to come waltzing down the hall and becoming indignant because there was, after all, a _sign_.

The fight-or-flight response kicked in, hard, as I calculated my odds. A lone, crippled female against two drunk cliché-machines standing at about 180 centimeters. _Place your bets, gents!_

Not that I didn't know how to fight. Quite the opposite. I had been trained to take care of myself, and can take as much as I can dish out, but that was when I had two fully working legs and the possibility of external help. People tend to want to help pretty girls, just as often as others want to creep it up. Hell, I had just dropped my only weapon next to my bag! I leaned my weight onto my bad leg as I moved backwards, nearly crying out. "Back off," I managed to growled. Damn, and you couldn't even carry a can of pepper spray on a plane anymore!

Sleaze and his – _associate-_ were quasi-skater/surfer guys with deep tans, long hair that was carefully out of place, wearing muscle t-shirts and long shorts with sandals. Other than descriptions for 'police' detectives, I really didn't care. They had an air of self-confidence that gave you the imoression that mommy never said no. You know the type. The kind that have egos rivaling the size of New York and liked their girls pretty, dumb, and helpless. Much like themselves. They seemed to have categorized me as such. _Wrong._

The two stumbled at me again; I had no choice but to back further into the hall. "Leave me _alone_," I growled at them with little effect other than to make them laugh. I glance about and found myself alone. With two men I didn't know that I doubted were planning anything good in those little minds of theirs. Not good for _me_, anyway.

Can you spell _bad day?_

"Look," I tried to reason, "my friends are going to be here any moment, and they won't take too kindly to you-" _Pricks_, "-gentlemen trying to intimidate me. If you leave now, I won't press charges. Scout's honor, fellas."

Sleaze laughed. "Don't be that way, you'll _like_ it!"

"Common misconception, actually. Just because someone says you'll like something doesn't mean you will. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you'd like brussel sprouts, really, if you just tried them? And weren't they the nastiest thing ever?" I joked, but it seemed to fly right over their heads. I returned to threats, "Guys, come on, I'm sure you're pretty reasonable when you're sober, so I'll give you one more chance to just walk away-" my bad leg gave out, traitor, and I slammed against a wall. _Pain_, blossoming across my occipital lobe. I let out a small groan and rubbed the back of my head. I was still waiting for some jackass to pop out of nowhere and sing, _SMILE! You're on Candid Camera!_ But it didn't look likely. I reached to my back for my pepper spray before I remembered that _damnable_ airport security. They stumbled closer as I struggled up, using the wall. My eyes were blurred with tears. I ground the heels of my hand into my eyes, seeing the four Sleaze Brothers come closer-

_Wait, four?_

A hand pushed me back against the wall. I raised a fist for a moment before I recognized the smell of leather, the ginger mop of hair in front of me, and the familiar sound of a revolver's hammer being cocked. I nearly laughed. My knight in shining armor, come at last- then I realized, _Wait, gun?_, with its hammer cocked, pointed at the ass-hats.

That was slightly odd. Normally Mello could control himself in public, at least enough to not pull out his gun- _and how did he get that into an airport?- _so I reached for his aiming arm as the two assholes fell over each other, blubbering. "Mel, I'm fine," I muttered. "They didn't touch me. Let's go home."

"She's right," said a sheep-haired boy, wearing what was probably his only set of clothes that didn't resemble pajamas. That explained it. Mello couldn't be anywhere close to Near without wanting to shoot somebody. "It would attract unwanted attention." He twirled his hair around his finger in a way that should have been endearing and disarming, but made Mello seem even more violent. Near turned to me, "Sorry we're late."

"Damn airport security," Mello hissed. He backed up a step to be next to me, sparing me hardly a glance before he turned his attention back to my new friends. "You alright, Summer?"

"Let's go home," I murmured, tugging at Mello's arm again. He leaned me against the wall, like a side note, and marched over to the children rolling about on the floor in self-pity, saying things along the lines of _we didn't mean it, we were just messing, she came onto us first_, raising his gun again- "Don't!" before delivering a crack to each of their carefully maintained faces. They each fell to the ground, _thump_ and _whump,_ blood pouring from their noses.

The albino boy frowned slightly at the limp forms before crouching over them and examining them, like puzzles. I could have told him just about anything he'd needed to know about them, but no one seemed to like listening to me much today. His nose crinkled at the stench of alcohol as he searched through their pockets. A half-dozen gamer jokes came to mind. I hobbled toward them, slowly, painfully. "Near, what do you think you're doing?"

He looked up at me, at my leg. "What were you doing?" he replied, with the slightest slip in his monotone on the 'you'. I grimaced at him. Deflection was _my_ game, dammit. He fished out them men's wallets, pulling out their ID cards and passports. _Prick._ I set my jaw and made my graceful way to my bag.

Which happened to be too slow for Speedy Gonzalez, who grumbled something about me being slower than any motherfucker he'd ever seen. The ground and I found ourselves no longer acquainted, which is a fancy way of saying Mello went and threw me over his shoulder. He ignored my squawking until I got the bright idea to say, "Dammit, Mel- put me _down_!"

I'll say this for the guy, he does actually listen to people. Sometimes. He just didn't seem to understand what most people would when I said 'put me down'. Most people would have set me on my feet. Mello all but threw me onto my Duffel, landing me on my ass. "Shit, what'd you go and do that for-"

"What the fuck did you go and do _that_ for?" he mocked. He slapped my leg, sending pain shooting up and down my thigh. I had to bite mytongue to keep from crying out. It should have earned him a kick, but I couldn't get my damned leg to move. I looked at it, tried to kick him again. No, it just sat there, almost _obscenely_ lifeless. I shoved him away, picked myself up slowly. I looked at where Sleaze and his 'bruh' were laying. "And what the fuck did you do for those douche-bags to come after you like that?"

"Oh, because you know I like a little excitement in my day, prick," I snapped. I tried to step around him, grumbling, "Fuck you, I'm going home with Near." Mello just slid in front of me. A one-man blockade. I groaned. "Look, I'll explain when I've got you all in one place. Five birds, one stone." I looked up Mello. He didn't seem happy, but know he couldn't get anything out of me until then. I leaned on my cane more heavily than I would have liked, walking out of the PILOTS ONLY hallway. Which, again, nobody noticed. What the hell was wrong with these people anyway? They hadn't spotted _anything_, and there hadn't even been any cameras in the hall. I shook my head. "Damn airport security."

Mello guided us to the outside where I thought I would be safe from mention of the incident, but not before Mello grumbled, "Where the hell's your damn pepper spray?"


	2. I'm Home!

Rewrite: updated 1/15/12

**Chapter 2**

**I'm Home!**

I finally asked why the worst friends in the history of the world were elected to pick me up together, and was told that L had needed both Watari and Matt to wrap up a case. Also, as Mello put it, "We didn't need Matt goin' into conniptions." I nodded, and spent the rest of the trip to the hotel keeping my head in front of Near's to block him from Mello's line of sight. It was, to say the least, not fun.

It sort of felt like I was one of those guys in the orange jumpsuits with the fashionable matching anklets and bracelets- oh wait, those are called _criminals_. I believe that we can all appreciate the irony in this, yes? Good, we're on the same page. I've never seen Mello and Near work together on a single thing, but they flanked me like they were brain-twins or something in the elevator ride up to the room. Mello, of course was angry, because he seems to be able to express himself in precious few ways. I'll give him some credit for the fact that he had bothered to go through the effort of picking me up. Undoubtedly it was because Matt asked him to, but it didn't hurt that my name was missing from his Hate List. I didn't understand what Near was getting out of it, though. Whammy's approval? L's? Maybe a shiny new toy. There wasn't much that motivated him.

I should mention, in the event that you, dear reader have not known him long enough to understand, Mello has a rather short reserve of patience that had been mostly used by the time we reached the room. _Their _room_, _because I was a big girl and could take care of myself, and anyway, I had already set up a new job nearby with reservations in a different hotel. Matt wouldn't like it, but he didn't have to. I was a goddamn independent woman.

Back to Mello's patience (or lack thereof), once he found that his key wasn't working (and seriously, who actually uses real keys in hotels anymore?) he looked damn close to simply beating down the door with Near. "No appreciation for the finer arts, you," I teased, and set about picking the lock. It's a skill that comes in handy more than you'd think, especially if you tend to lock yourself out a lot. I'm not going to say that everyone should learn it, because frankly, I don't want people getting into my stuff. Although the only people who seem motivated to actually _do_ that already know how, but I digress.

I was first hit by the overwhelming smell of cigarettes, and nearly died. "What the _hell_?" I muttered. Mello pushed past me, saying something vaguely accusatory about Matt smoking a pack a minute for a week straight.

Stupid Overprotective Brother Syndrome.

I tried to peer around the corner, to see if Matt was had gotten through a carton yet, since he should have been back if they'd left only that morning. Matt's sort of the master of anything electronic. "Hello?" I called, "Anyone home?" Nope. Mello was right behind me, hand firm on my shoulder in a way that said _Get your ass in there_. I shrugged him off and slumped on the couch by the door with about as much grace as I could manage. I didn't bother to kick off my shoes by my bag, but just sat and rubbed my leg, trying to knead some of the pain out of it.

After about a minute of waiting, of watching Near start to pick up his puzzle pieces and Mello unwrap the last bit of a chocolate bar, I sighed. Loudly. "Shut up," said Mello, more out of habit than anything. It was just- hey just looked so fucking _normal _ that I wanted to fall on my side and curl up in a ball because it looked like six months before, six months before I had gone off to face the heat and the bombs but it wasn't, clearly. And they didn't seem to have changed. And it hurt, somewhere inside, for some reason that I didn't quite grasp. So I sighed again. Mello looked up. "Don't think I won't smack you," he said, and crumpled the wrapper in his hand, tossing it at Near. Near shifted and the ball went flying past him, which Mello didn't bother to notice as he strolled into the kitchenette sort of thing. Fine with me. I pulled out a ballpoint pen to give myself something to do. I started to draw on my arm, ignoring the tremor.

Near had, evidently, been waiting for Mello to leave. He sat beside me in what I called a 'half-L' position, holding a bowl of strawberries. I had no idea where he'd been hiding them, maybe assuming that Matt wouldn't be back yet? No, not assuming, never assuming. He would have made an educated prediction. Nothing was guesswork. I pretended for a second that it was simply Near being nice before he held the bowl out of my reach and said, "You aren't going to be very cooperative with me, will you." It was not a question, but it was an attempt at one. He must have been practicing his small talk. " I think that interrogation has the least chance. Therefore, bribery."

Alright, he didn't actually say _Therefore, bribery_, but that was what he meant. And no matter what weakness I had for strawberries (have you honestly ever gone a full six months without one?) I decided that I wasn't going to be Near's new toy. He was not going to play councilor, nor was anybody else- not him, not Mello (which would end tragically) not Matt, Not Whammy, and definitely not _L_. I was saved from cussing him out in French when I heard a crash from the other room, followed closely by a _sonofabitch! _I sprang as fast as I could into action, wincing, while Near watched. A wise choice, considering his untested status on battering-ram capability.

Mello was having a hissy-fit over, predictably, chocolate. He was throwing a toaster when I entered. I blinked. This sort of thing _never_ happened (not the hissy-fit or toaster-throwing, the out-of-chocolate part). Whammy (and when around, I) never let their be a chocolate shortage around Mello, because it always ended with thrown toasters or people or death threats or any manner of unpleasant things and bribery to keep people quiet. Matt, I assumed, must have had his own way of dealing with it

I was distracted from my mission of keeping Mello from going ape-shit for a moment. I said, "Jesus, you do know that people can hear you, right?" and he just put his hands on his hips, and flipped his hair over his shoulder. I suddenly realized that the familiar leather was tighter than it had been six months ago, and nearly laughed, "Mels, when'd you get to be such a _girl_?"

He glowered at me from under his fringe, something almost inherently feminine and grumbled, "When'd you get to be such a cripple?" before turning back to tear the room apart. He hadn't especially meant for me to hear it, because he'd get no end of bitching from Matt if he had, so I pretended that he hadn't even spoken.

I hobbled over and punched him in the arm, trying to change his focus. "How the hell did you run outta chocolate, anyhow? You usually have enough to make Godiva do a double-take." I said this because, again, it should have been impossible for him to be out. He was with Matt, almost exclusively, and when he wasn't he was working with the mafia and they all knew what happened when Mello wasn't happy, or at least had a peon that knew to pay him in chocolate, so I ticked things off in my head. Mello hadn't been with the mafia for about a week now. Matt should have been with him, and even if he hadn't been with Matt, it looked like Whammy had been near by... but then that wouldn't have worked, I realized. Matt had (by the smell of the room) been chain smoking, and when he does that, he's pretty distracted about normal day-to-day things. Whammy was usually looking after the world's three greatest detectives (plus Near and Mello and Matt, which I suppose made six), so how was he supposed to slip out and run errands? I shook my head and swallowed down my guilt.

"I left it right on the fucking counter, it was fucking there!"

I laughed shortly, "L must've lifted it, then." Mello had probably come to that conclusion already, seeing as he was the detective, but hearing me say it made him look like he was going to punch somebody, and Near with a nose bleed isn't a pretty sight. I rolled my eyes to cover up my relief- a reason to _leave_. I hobbled to the door and picked up my cane again, checking my pockets for change that was actually worth something in this country.

I could have given Mello the box I had in my bag, but it was probably a little melted, and besides, I didn't know how long I'd be able to stand Near pumping me for information. And although Mello didn't play nice with Near, they had been acting a bit odd, so for all I knew he might have joined in; and the _sillage_ of cigarettes was driving me crazy- not the smell of cigarettes, because they had gone, but the smell left behind to dissipate in the room. _You just need to clear your head, get some air_, I told myself. _This is totally not running away from anything_. I quickly scribbled a note to Matt and left it on the couch. Gimp, throbbing leg be damned, I was out of there. Good thing I hadn't taken off my shoes.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Mello yelled.

"To get your chocolate fix. There's a café downstairs. I'll leave my wallet, alright? I'll be back!" I called to him, and snatched a strawberry from Near. He didn't protest, possibly because he thought hide-and-seek was a better game than 20 questions. I heard Mello cursing, trying to kick various kitchen appliances out of his way before I closed the door behind me. The quiet was absolutely wonderful.

For about five seconds.

The elevator around the corner _ding_ed, doors slid open, and a new voice sounded, "-so calm yourself."

I was already looking for for an out when I spotted an open door. Perfect- the maid had her back turned, and with loud music pouring out of her headphones, she didn't notice me slipping in as the door closed and she moved on.

"I can't just 'calm myself', alright? She's my _sister_ and I haven't seen her in _forever_!" I felt a twinge of guilt, but bit my lip. What was I supposed to say if I walked out of that room? _Sorry, bro, at first I didn't want to see you but now your heart-felt sister-missing has made me reconsider._ I guess I had kind of screwed myself the moment I decided to hide.

I shut the door most of the way, just enough to watch a trio pass by. "Six months, four days, and fifteen hours to be more realistic, Matt." I bit my tongue. Damn, they just weren't hurrying into that room. "I doubt that she would leave forever."

Matt groaned, and I could see him itching to light up another cigarette. "She only came home early because she was hurt- and she would have stayed the rest of the week if I hadn't threatened to drag her back myself."

The key rattled in the lock, feet shuffled, and I was headed for the elevator. _Not much time_, I thought hurriedly. I reached in, hit three buttons and then the lobby button before thumping to the door the maid was just leaving. She saw me coming and held it open for me, bobbing in time with her music. I smiled and nodded, closing the door just as Matt's burst open. Perfect, Mello had probably been so busy kicking and screaming that Near hadn't been able to get a word in edge-wise.

"Hold the elevator!" a voice called as the doors slid shut and denied him with a sunny _ding!_

I watched through the peephole as they cursed and called up the second elevator. I heard the famous _ding_ once more, as the doors slid open. I peaked through, just to check and see if they had all gone around the corner yet, and stepped back from the portal. Fun fact: when you use a peephole, your head will block light from passing through, giving you away. Same for your feet, they'll create dark shapes beneath the door.

It was L, of course. If Matt or Mello had realized it was me, then they would have _actually_ used Near to knock down the door. He made a humming sound, disapproving. Then Whammy's voice, quiet, "I doubt she would leave us indefinitely."

My lips twitched. _Thank you, Whammy_.

The elevator doors shuttered closed, and departed. _Well, I've just sort of dug my own grave. Let's go._ I looked out carefully through the peephole one last time, to check for lurkers. Looked like they'd all gotten on the elevator. I started for the stairwell- with any luck, they'd think I'd pulled an Elvis and left the building.


	3. Taxis and Choices Or Lack Thereof

**Chapter 3:**

**Taxis and Choices (Or Lack Thereof)**

I smiled to myself as I slid down the rails. This way was _way _more fun than any elevator. I caught myself trying to remember the last time I'd just slid down the rails.

_Let's see… _That had to be years ago, at least. It must've been sliding down the rails at Whammy's House when Matt and I where little. He'd slide down first and catch me at the bottom. I always laughed when Mello would race down after me and try to knock me off. Near would watch, a safe distance from Mello, and I would try and get him to join us. Mello didn't like him even then, and would try to shove him off the few times he joined with Mello around. Near liked to play more when it was just he and I as a game. And L-

I changed direction at a landing. Nine floors to go.

I don't know if you know this, but flights of stairs in hotels are awfully short. At each landing, I had to stop and get onto another railing. You have to lean just right so you don't tumble to a painful and embarrassing stop.

I remember doing that once, unfortunately. Matt had been telling me to stop leaning back so much or I wouldn't move right. So, like most children, I over-compensated and leaned _forward_ too much, and lost my balance, tumbling down the stairs and skidded across the final flight. Watari and Roger were _infuriated_ at the purple-black bruises that consumed half my face. I couldn't ride for a week because they seemed to follow me almost everywhere. I got away so many times they had L-

Landing number six. I looked down to the other stairs below me and listened. I was still alone. Good. I needed to be by myself for a little longer.

_they made L follow me instead_, I remember mildly as I kept going, holding my crutch out in front of me as a balance.

Forth floor, now. Third. Second. Lobby.

I opened the door to the lobby painfully slowly, peering out into the room through the ever-growing crack. The place was almost devoid of life. _Nope, scratch that,_ I thought as I looked over the receptionist, _he's pretty lifeless. _He was, I noticed as I quietly came in, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up onto his desk. I heard bubble gum popping behind a newspaper that his pen poked through just then. He managed to utter a sloppy curse around his gum as he pulled it back through to continue the crossword.

More importantly, I noticed with more assurance, my detectives weren't there. My detectives. I smiled to myself as I silently made my way to the exit. _My_ detectives.

My _family_.

I turned back to the reception desk. "Mmm…hello?" I pulled a lock of my chin-length bangs hair from my cap, twisting it around my finger more sweetly than Near did. I was close enough to the desk to hide my crutch from the receptionist. I read his lop-sided tag. It read GARATH. Well, Garath turned out to be a zit-spackled lanky teen with a wisp of ginger hair beginning to sprout on his lip. "Could I leave a message for the tenants of room 1221?" I leaned onto my elbows on the raised edge of the desk and gave a smile that, come to think of it, may have looked flirtatious.

Insert shudder here.

_Anyways –_ the boy's mouth flapped open and closed a few times before he managed to get a robotic, "Yes, one moment please," out and search desperately for a scrap of clean paper amongst god-knows what on his desk before discovering a coffee-stained pad of paper. I plucked a pen from a mug that bore Garath and his family's picture that said,_ X-Mas 2008_ on it. I clicked the pen, licking the nub before writing.

_Chucan,_

_Je sais qu'il est peu probable que vos receverz ceci avant que revienne, mais sur au loin la chance que vous faites je dira ceci pour maintenant: J'ai besoin d'un peu d'air pour maintenant. Soyez de retour a 1600._

_N'oubliez pas je t'aime tous_

_Ete _

I knew that my family would be able to easily read French, but I doubted that Garath could. I looked over the paper, making sure it said

_Everyone,_

_I know that it is unlikely that you will receive this before I come back, but on the off chance you do I will say this for now: I need a little air for now. Be back at 1600._

_Do not forget I love you all,_

_Summer_

Something like that. With a single motion, I tore the paper cleanly from the pad. I set the note down and clicked the pen closed, setting it on top.

"Au revior!" I called to Garath as I made my way to the exit on my crutch. _If I keep to my deadline of 4:00,_ I thought to myself, _I have four hours alone. _Four hours to play my favorite game: hide and seek!

***

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Matt murmured, staring out the tinted windows without seeing the city scroll past. The lenses of his goggles rested on his forehead for once, allowing the other passengers to see his cobalt blue eyes. Those eyes were unfocused, noting that the world was depressingly bluer without the orange of his goggles as he absently tapped out a rhythm at the early summer rain that tapped back at him like invisible fingers on the glass. Matt began to hum the tune of the rhythm, almost silently, yet somehow off-pitch. The song was Summer's favorite, or rather, one of many. The words meandered through his mind. _Can't you stop the lies, falling from the skies…_

Matt rubbed the space between his eyes when a cell phone went off, chirping obnoxiously for attention. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Matt sighed before digging into his pocket and ripping the device out. The caller ID read SUMMER. Matt flipped the cell open violently, slamming it to his ear as he dragged out his laptop hastily from under his seat.

"Hey, Matt," Summer's distorted voice greeted through a wave of static. "Before you-,"

"WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Matt hissed far louder than he'd meant to. But hey, his own _sister_ was now a damned _cripple_ and had run off to _God_-knows _where_ for _God-_ knows what _inane _reason she might have to go to some _god_forsaken place. He'd say he had a pretty good reason to-

"-go ballistic." The sibling made a static sigh. "I left a message at the front desk, but I figured that you might not get it in time, so – hi."

At the stares from his fellow detectives and Watari's gaze reflected by the rear-view mirror, Matt hit the speakerphone button in time for them to hear the final word.

Matt's fingers danced across the keyboard more freely and frenziedly now that he no longer held the phone. "Summer, when I find you I'm going to strap a locator to your ankle. That is, if I don't _kill_ you, bring you back to life and _slap_ you before killing you again-,"

"Yeah, yeah," the fugitive interrupted as if she'd heard it all before. Which she had. "Skip to the part where you calm down enough for me to get a word in edge-wise. Deep breathes. In. Out. Don't hyperventilate on me now, Matt."

Matt's fingers continued their samba even as he closed his eyes tightly again. Deep breathes. In. Out. Better. Matt reopened his eyes.

"Where are you, Summer?" Near asked quietly, staring at the picture ID Matt used for Summer's calls. She was covering a wide grin with her hands. Summer's fingers barely peeked above her long green sleeves. Near couldn't remember seeing her smile like that for a long time.

Summer, predictably, blew off the question. "Details, details! Besides, I'm sure that Matt is running a trace on me as we speak. Oh!" she said suddenly, as if just remembering something embarrassing. "That, uh, reminds me. You might not want to be doing that right now-,"

Summer was interrupted by Matt's computer, which had begun to spew the _Caramel Dansen_ _Song._ An animation of a chibi-fied Summer stuck her tongue out and danced in the middle of Matt's screen. Words appeared next to the animation. _Sorry about the virus. I can't have stalkers now, can I?_

Near stopped in mid-twirl. L smiled like he'd just gotten a bowl of candy to himself. Watari rolled his eyes, but smiled in the mirror. Matt face-palmed. Mello looked over at the laptop. "Okay, really? What the fuckin' hell, Summer?"

Summer giggled, embarrassed. "It was a good idea at the time, okay? It was late, I couldn't sleep, and –hey- come to think of it, most ideas sound good at times like that. _Except_ learning Klingon. I'm not learning that, no matter _how_ funny you think that'll be."

Matt smiled slightly at the old joke. It was no more than the faintest of lip-twitches, but it was a smile nonetheless. He sighed softly, knowing that if his sister was back at cracking jokes, she had to be safe. Matt leaned back against the seat, slipping his goggles off his forehead, which ruffled his red hair. Matt set to cleaning the lenses with the edge of his shirt. "So, where are you, exactly?"

"On a -,"Summer's voice cut out for a moment before she roared in to the receiver, "SON OF A GODDAMN BITCH! I FUCKIN' _HATE_ TAXIS!!" the inside of the car practically shook with her anger.

"One would think that six months away would have sobered one to swearing like Mello," L murmured to the phone.

"Hah fuckin' hah hah," Mello grumbled sourly, crossing his arms over his already crossed legs as he blew a lock of hair from his face.

Neither of these exchanges was heard by Summer, who paused before questioning, "Is Watari going to wash out my mouth with soap now?"

There was a chuckle from the driver. "He's considering it. Why, exactly, are you swearing like a drunken Irish sailor at taxis?" Matt asked.

"Mells is a drunken Irish sailor? That would explain an awful lot. Oh, some retarded taxi driver apparently decided it looked fun to splash me. Now I'm wet past the knees." Summer's curses were shrouded by another wave of static. "Stupid taxi drivers."

L leaned forward, a thumb pressed to his lips. "You still haven't answered our question, Summer."

"I was saying, before that God_damn _taxi," Summer snapped in annoyance, " came along, I'm on a walk, getting some air. Don't suppose you've been back at the room? I left a message at the front desk. Did you guys catch that part?"

The detectives looked amongst themselves. The deskman hadn't tried to flag them down, had he? "Are you sure?" Near asked carefully. None of them had paid any attention to the kid behind the desk.

"How could I _not_ be?" Summer demanded, exasperated. "I did it in person, so _yeah_, I'm pretty sure I'm sure."

The entire group paused for a moment. How could the world's four most renowned (yet _un_known) detectives not have checked in with the front desk? Matt swiveled his head to look at the others. Near's hair slipped from around his finger. Mello had a blank mask of annoyance on. L stopped nibbling his thumb, instead pulling it out to set it thoughtfully on his lips. Lastly, unseen by his passengers, Watari inwardly sighed, relieved. It was good not to have to think about things like these anymore.

L blinked (as he seldom did) and looked at Summer's picture on the phone. He remembered the day that picture was taken… "When did you leave the message?" He seemed to speak more slowly and precisely here, careful with how he spoke to her.

"When do you _think_?" Summer raised her voice, exasperated with the entire conversation. "I left the message when I left the building, _L_," she practically growled his name, why was a new question on everyone's minds. "And why didn't I get a _hello_ from anyone? Isn't that how conversations usually start?" She was deflecting now, trying to lead their minds from the important parts of their dialogue.

Now Matt was exasperated. He grabbed the phone, speaking directly into it as he stared at the picture-icon as he would his sister when he'd be able to get his hands on her. "Stop playing _games_ with us, Summer," he snapped uncharacteristically at her. "You still haven't answered our questions."

The entire group could imagine the eye roll and angry set of her jaw as Summer tensely and sarcastically called out, "Dah! Mein Fuhrer!"

Mello hissed, "This isn't a game, Summer-,"

"You don't think I know that?!" The venom and vehemence in the woman's voice caught even Matt off guard. She hissed a stream of static that was presumably a long string of curses. "I'm not a child, and you damn well know I never was – _none_ of us! Yet, you all still treat me like 5-year-old, like I never grew up, never became my own person! Like I'm just another – another _thing_ to look after, as if you look away for an instant, " she brought her voice to a gentler level, "I'll break into a thousand pieces. You all have to _get over_ the idea of watching over me forever. _Ain't_ gonna happen. You know that's why I left to take the job. Should I really have to go all the way out to the Middle East to breathe? Look," the entire group of detectives could almost see Summer rub her lips together, "You all have to listen to me, just this once: let me breathe. I'm okay, I'm safe. I just have to think before I come back. And I will. Don't I always?" Summer's voice was more like the one they remembered, more gentle. "_Don't_ I? I've trusted every one of you more times than I care to remember, more than once against my best judgment. Now please, trust me. Just once, if only just for today."

Near and the near-drag looked between the sibling and L. Watari spared them indirect glances in the mirror while trying to watch the road as Matt fiddled with the phone. Open. Closed. Open, closed. Open-closed. L watched the cell in Matt's hands before catching Matt's eye. L didn't have to say it. Matt's sister. Matt's choice.

"Hey? C'mon, you all know I'm right in as many languages as I speak."

Matt smiled slightly, almost sadly. "Except Klingon."

"Never Klingon." Then, quietly, "Please, Matt? For a while, if you don't mind, let me be myself. So I can shine with my own light, let me be myself."

Matt almost snorted. "Do I have a choice?"

Even without Summer being there, he could see Summer's soft smile, her hallmark or Kodak moment. "There are always choices, Matt. Even if you can't see them."

**AN:** I found that the ending of this chapter had been cut off, so I decided to put it back on for you all! I love you guys that much!

The first song, the one Matt is thinking of, is called Still Standing by The Rasmus. The second one, the one Summer is singing, is called Let Me Be Myself by 3 Doors Down. They are both very epic songs sung by epically epic artists. If you haven't listen to either of them, I hear by order you to search You Tube!

Last note, I promise! When Mello is called a 'near-drag' it's a play on Near's name because I placed them in opportune places. It also implies tat Mello is a drag queen. *runs away from Mello's wrath*


	4. Misunderstandings

**Chapter 4:**

**Misunderstandings**

As always, for ThreeBooksInTheFire

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I snapped my phone closed, severing the connection. Oh, I was _so_ dead.

The time was displayed on the front screen, flashing the time up at me. 3 hours until I needed to get my ass in the room.

Or, three hours to play the best game of hide-and-seek ever!

_That is_, I thought ruefully,_ if I can hide long enough._

So, for about 5 or so minutes, I wandered down a seemingly endless stream of specialty shops that were all the same until I found a small coffee place shoved in between larger buildings that almost seemed to be threatening to consume it. One of those cute-sy kinds that you see in cheap chick-flicks or throwaway airplane romance novels or whatever. God, the picturesque-ness of it almost made me nauseous. It was the kind of place that I wouldn't be caught _dead_ in.

That made it _perfect_.

That also, unfortunately, meant I had to go inside. I took a deep breath, like one would when they were about to scrape dog-crap off their shoe. _Here goes nothing._

It was cute, I suppose. A few plants hung from the ceiling, dripping green tendrils. Tables, made for groups of two or three, were scattered about, far enough away from each other to keep conversations private. The plates and dishes a waiter was scooping up were playfully and tastefully clashing in patterns. _Get me out of here._

The urge to leave, and go anywhere – even to the room and interrogation – was almost overwhelming now. I surveyed the room, quickly picking out a spot where I could see the entire café, but I could only be seen from a few spots. Perfect.

I sat, rubbing my hands anxiously on my thighs. Everything was too, too – something. I couldn't put my finger on it. A waiter – the one I saw when I came in – walked by me. His arms were laden with dirty dishes. He held up one finger, smiling at me. He would be back in a moment.

I smiled shakily back. I needed something hot and I needed to get some liquid in me _now_, I realized. Being on a godforsaken plane for an ungodly amount of time does that to ya. The man came back, a not-so-fake smile plastered on his lips, whipping his hands on his little apron before pulling out his little notebook and little pen. "What can I get you today, miss?"

_Does he sound so sincere to all the patrons_? I wondered while I forced a halfway smile onto my face. "A hot chocolate would be really, _really_ nice right now," I said almost pathetically. Okay, I might have picked up the chocolate loving from Mello. The near pleading was most certainly from my brother.

Ha ha. Hear _that_, Matt?

He smiled, looking out the window to his right. "I'll bet. Especially with that weather outside. It wasn't supposed to rain this week," he stopped himself, seeing that he was rambling on. He jotted down the order. "I'll be right back with that drink, miss." He spared one last look at me before turning the order into the kitchen and taking an order from a wet couple that had just walked in.

I looked down at myself. _Why is everyone looking at me like that today?_ I wondered. I was only wearing black cargos, a white tank, and a large jacket over that. My cap still held most of my auburn hair in it. My banged-up locket hung from around my neck. He couldn't possibly have seen my crutch behind me and he didn't see me when I came in. I couldn't be weird looking, could I? No, there were certainly far odder specimens in this city. The way people were looking at me, you'd think that I were indecent or something. I shook it off.

Weird people in this city.

The waiter came back just then, my mug steaming on a platter. I almost whimpered when my fingers closed around the warmth of the container. Okay, maybe I did.

Don't judge me. It's another habit I picked up from Matt… Probably.

I started to gulp the liquid before the man had a chance to warn me. The taste was to _die_ for.

Oh, but the tongue burn, however, was a completely different matter.

"AH! AH!" I panted. "Ow! Owowow!" I think I sounded rather like a dog in pain.

I could feel the other patrons scattered about stare at me and I heard their laughter. I sent a nasty glare in their general directions through more hanging vines. _Yeah, yeah_, _laugh it up._

_Okay, enough of this_. I set the drink back on the table and searched for my wallet in my many, _many_ pockets. Key-card, gum wrapper, gum wrapper, lint, used gum, ew… Ah. There.

The waiter-man was still watching me worriedly as I pulled out a twenty for a five-dollar drink. I just had to get out of there. I slapped down the money and muttered something about how he could keep the change. I rushed out the door without another word.

After my escape, I wandered around the city for while after that. Nothing much to tell, really. I just sort of went from street to street, feeling the light drizzling rain on my face. I didn't know what I was looking for until I found it.

***

The entire group was on a dull blade's edge. They had been searching since they'd left the room, even with Summer's assurances. So far, nothing.

"Damn it!" Matt cursed under his breath. "We've checked everywhere. She couldn't have just up and vanished." He studied the map before him as a host of unpleasant scenarios came to the foreground of his mind. He snapped the map in front of him, forcing them away.

Mello looked over at his friend. "She's a big girl, Matt," he reminded. "And shut up. You're muttering to yourself like a psycho."

Matt grit his teeth. He had his goggles on his forehead again, like he did only when he was really worried or really pissed. Or any combination there of. Usually, Summer was involved in those instances.

He looked to the others to distract himself and mused, _the world's five greatest detectives can't find one girl in one city._ He saw Mello dividing his attention between listening to the others and cleaning under his nails with a blade. Near was twirling his hair in thought, looking through different windows on the laptop he refused to lend to Matt since his own crashed from Summer's virus. Watari, of course, was driving up front. L was murmuring things to himself, looking through some tattered notebooks…Summer's old diaries? Matt ignored it. Let Summer be angry if she liked.

Matt sighed for the umpteenth time, wishing suddenly and strongly for a cigarette. He had been trying to give up, as a coming home present for Summer, but his resolve had kind of dissolved. Besides, he knew that his sister wouldn't mind so much if he'd just cut back to one or two a day. Or he would, as she liked to put it, die of cancer at the age of thirty. He smiled slightly again, almost unnoticeably. _She's such a pain in the ass,_ he thought to himself, _but you've just gotta love her for it. And what else are sisters for?_

Matt stared out the window again, looking at the water beneath the bridge and shifted in his seat. If there was one thing he hated other than Summer's antics, it was bridges. And airplanes. And subways. Matt muttered to himself, "How in the hell can she like bridges?"

L snapped his head up to look at Matt, then looked at the pedestrians walking on each edge of the bridge. Matt sat up too, looking out the darkened windows. _Of course._ Summer always did love to look down at the rivers under bridges, leaning so far over that Matt would tease her she would fall over one day. Of course, he did so at a distance of ten paces from the edge. _Yes, she _has_ to be here._

Matt looked at the few people that littered the bridge. A couple had their heads put together as they were swinging linked arms. A young mother and father held their young child up to look below them. An elderly married pair was nearly run down by a group of cyclists. A shirtless man who looked to be twice the age of Watari jogged down one side. Matt inwardly shuddered and decided to give his eyes a thorough scrubbing. A few stragglers were scattered about, most of them getting on or off the bridge. There was one that Matt almost overlooked.

A girl. A girl that looked almost nothing like him.

Except for that one look she'd give you when she was really pissed off.

***

I sat on the uneven stones of the half-wall, staring down at the water below me. It was a dull gray, a reflection of the clouds above me. I never was good with judging distances, but the water had to be about, what, 20 feet down? I ran calculations through my mind as I moved to sit differently, straddling the wall now. Ah. Better.

_Now,_ I thought, _if an object falling towards the ground accelerates at 9m/s/s, then I would hit the water… _hmmm. _Hard. Really, really hard._ I gulped, shifting again. I didn't have to be L with his percentages to know that my chances wouldn't be good if I hit the water.

I looked down again, shifting…

***

"There! Watari, over there!" Matt pointed at Summer, straddling the wall, staring down at the water intently. She swung her other leg over the wall…

Watari hadn't fully stopped when it struck Matt: his sister was going to _kill_ herself. How could she even think…

That was when time seemed to race forward but not go by fast enough as the logic cortex of his mind had only one thought. _Summer_ was going to _off_ herself. His _sister_ was going to commit _suicide_. No. No.

Everyone seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. Watari swerved to a stop and the four others leapt out of the vehicle. Matt raced toward his sister, but uncountable years of chain-smoking kept him from breathing well. L was ahead of him within a second. Matt had time to think in some part of his mind, _for a guy that eats candy all the time, he's fast._

Summer began to sway to and fro on the wall, a look of sheer concentration making her blind and deaf to the world around her. She had the barest hint of a smile…

She didn't even know that they were there until Summer found herself tackled and pinned to the ground.

***

I pulled my other leg over the wall and started to sway on it in thought. The water was so beautiful I wanted to touch it.

For the barest second, I thought about jumping. Just jumping and letting the world go on without me.

_But what about Matt?_ I couldn't just leave him. I couldn't leave any of them. I smiled the slightest smile sadly. _Life is never simple, but death is._

I closed my eyes and sighed softly. I was ready to go back now. Maybe I could survive through telling them what happened.

I had just opened my eyes when I felt an impact and within a second, I was on the ground, held down by something strong.

I couldn't comprehend where I was for a good three seconds. That's a scary long time for me. All my thoughts were scattered in every direction, and not in a good way. I was scared. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I anything. All I knew was that I felt like the back of my head had been hit with a very angry semi driver's truck.

Then, I think I blacked out.

**AN:** if you haven't picked up on it yet, I update once a week. If I get a little inspiration, maybe from nice people in nice PM's, I might update twice. See ya next week!


	5. Damn

**Chapter 5:**

**Damn**

Can you guess whom it is for? *cough ThreeBooksInTheFire cough*

Matt's eyes widened as he raced over to his sister best he could. In other words, wheezing. He was breathing loud and hard when he fell to his knees beside Summer.

She still hadn't woken up.

"Summer?" Matt panted, shaking her slightly. "Summer?" Matt searched her face for a glimmer of response. None. Matt looked up to L, who was getting off of her to try and revive her. "How hard did you hit her?"

L didn't answer him as he gave up on trying to wake her and searched for a pulse in Summer's neck. He counted the beats quietly until Watari and the other two ran up. Matt swallowed hard when he saw the blood seeping through his sister's hair.

Watari gently pushed Matt back from Summer's limp form so he could bundle his coat beneath her head. "Summer?" Was his voice really so weak? The puddle grew. He panicked. "Summer! Wake up!" he shouted at his sister's unresponsiveness. She looked dead. Matt slapped her cheek, gently first, then with a hard _smack_.

Mello grabbed Matt from under his arms without warning, dragging him backwards. "Stop it," Mello hissed harshly in his ear, the strawberry blonde's hair swished and whispered harsh words into it. Then he dumped Matt onto the pavement.

Matt watched as other's on the bridge begin to gather around the seen like vultures to a carcass. Matt quickly shoved that image from his mind, refusing to remember all the nature programs that he'd watched with Summer – damn. They weren't going away.

…_and here we see the scavengers gather 'round the remains…_

Matt was ripped out of his mini-horror world when the _shirtless_ jogging man that looked to be _twice_ Watari's age ran up, panting. "Does that young lady need CPR?" Seemingly without waiting for an answer, he bent down and was about to perform mouth to mouth. Matt's eyes widened. _Well,_ that _would wake her up._ Mello grabbed the man and pushed him away.

"Get away from her, you -," Mello's stream of undoubtedly harsh words were stopped by the interruption of another pedestrian.

"What's happened?" the young man asked, kneeling down by Summer. He looked to be only a few years older than L. "I'm a doctor, I can help," he said in response to the group's collective looks of wariness in case he was another sicko trying to get to a helpless girl. _Why_ were there so many in that city?

_What choice do we have?_ Matt thought, looking at the others in defeat, and let the doctor in.

***

Those stupid angry truckers, driving their trucks into my skull. Take some anger-management classes, or ones for road rage, dammit.

I wouldn't let the pain show on my features, or make any sound indicating I was awake. Instead, once the true shock of the pain died down to a more tolerable level, I listened to the sounds of voices around me.

Near. "Summer is fine, Matt. Let her sleep."

Matt. "I want some answers from her. She – she hasn't been acting like herself. You've all seen that." I could feel weight on the soft surface I was on shift as someone moved beside me. "Why?" I felt familiar fingers brush across my forehead, sweeping away stray hairs_. _I almost wanted to cry. I could see the expression he held inside of him through my eyelids. _Damn._

Watari. He sighed, entering the area. "She should be waking soon, Matt. Do not worry." Always there for you, that Watari. Trying to make the world better, even if he really couldn't. Maybe he did that as a thing he picked up from being a caretaker for so long. He sounded almost believable.

Mello. "Well, I'm surprised she didn't wake up when that ugly bastard tried to do CPR. I would've shot 'im." I almost smiled. _That's Mello for you_.

Matt again. "Yeah. I'm sure she would've jumped back up and kicked that guy's ass. He was, what, over 9,000 years old?" My brother laughed lightly, as if nothing troubled him simply because of Mello's joke. Was it a joke? I shuddered inwardly. _It better be…_ I had seen that man on the bridge. Then I made the mistake of picturing him trying to do CPR on me -

_EW! OH GOD! EW!_

I felt fingers brush through my hair again. I tried not to move and give myself away. They wouldn't say what they were really thinking if they knew I were awake.

Matt. "I – I need to get out of here. I can't just _wait_ for her to - wake up. S – Summer will need to think things over a little more before she tells us anything -," the weight on the cushions lifted away. Matt was leaving, his sentence still unfinished because he didn't know how to finish it. Footsteps on carpet stepped away from me, a door opened and shut.

Mello. After a pause, he said, "Ah, fuck. Fine, fine, I'll get some sense into him." He grumbled before the door shut, "Goddamn it."

Near. There was a short silence before he spoke. "Why was she trying to kill herself?" he said quietly, more to himself than L or Watari.

_Kill myself?__ Kill__ myself?! _Is that what they thought I was trying to do? Well, yes, I'll admit it. I had thought about it, and you saw that. Everyone does at some point in their lives when they're depressed, don't they? Haven't you? I could never leave any of them alone here, of course. God knows that.

You just can't leave men to themselves. That _never_ ends well.

L. He made a sort of humming sound, touching my hair again, how I hated how that made me _feel_! I think I must've moved at this point, for L sent Watari and Near off to rest or something of the like. I couldn't concentrate for a moment. All I did was try not to make anymore sound or noise. The door was held open long enough for an albino and Englishman to exit. A few moments after it clicked shut, L said, " Summer?" I didn't move. "Summer?" he repeated my name, softly, grazing my cheek. Why did that have to feel so familiar?

I gave up my ruse then when I crinkled my brow, it was barely even perceivable. But I knew he saw it. _Damn __it._ _Damn it all to hell._ I refused to let him see my thoughts as I opened my eyes, leaving my expression blank. "I'm awake. But, you knew that from the beginning, didn't you?" I asked, carefully neutral, looking up at his onyx eyes with my gunmetal ones.

I took this opportunity to examine him more closely, to see how he had changed. The ever-present shadows that hung beneath his eyes seemed to have grown to new shades of dark. His hair had become longer, shaggier, now than six months ago. I could never be sure, but it seemed even the way he looked at me had grown in a more intense, more analytical in a way. My examination of him did not go unnoticed. "I suspected, yes."

I knew that he was examining me in the same way. I swore silently in many, _many_ languages before replying, "Of course you did." He was being modest, something he never did normally. Or, he was just trying to screw with me. By my past experiences, people usually practiced the second.

_Why don't I trust anymore?_

I shoved the disturbing thought away, trying to sit up. They always told me that's what I did, shoving away unpleasant truths because they were unpleasant. L pushed me back down by my shoulder. How I _hated_ the way that touch made me remember moments from before I left. I managed to suppress myself to a slight shudder and a shove at his hand, looking away from his eyes. He said nothing, just cocked his head, frowning slightly. I didn't have to be psychic to know what the man was thinking.

_You didn't act like this six months ago. _

I began to sit up quickly even though I suddenly wished I hadn't. My head exploded into pain as my movement jostled it. I sucked in a deep breath sharply. I hadn't expected that much pain. I continued to sit up slowly.

I could still feel L looking at me, even as I rolled my shoulders and stretched my arms up and out. I refused to give in to him by letting pain show, touching new bandages that wrapped around my head. I gave an _okay, what?_ sort of look at him before saying, "Okay, that's new. When did I get this?" I looked at L inquiringly.

L motioned gracefully towards my all but dead leg. "When did you get that?"

"I've been getting that a lot lately," I laughed, darkly and without humor, still tracing the outside of the bandage until my sensitive fingertips found a slightly wet spot on it. I pressed on it gently before pressing my lips together tightly. That hurt more than I thought it would. I turned to L, seriously. "Was this from the bridge? What hit me?" As an after thought, I asked, "And where's my hat?"

L looked at me, not betraying a single word in his eyes. But his silence told me all I needed to know. "Ah. And here I was, thinking it was an angry semi driver," I looked at him levelly. "You should play football – the American kind. You'd be good at it."

I shot a look at him to see if he'd been smiling. No. No smile for me.

"Summer?" L asked quietly again. I saw him lean towards me in my peripheral vision, like he used to, in the way that left me no personal space. I knew what he was asking. I knew why he had sent the others out. He wanted to interrogate me alone.

_Fine._ I thought angrily. _Damn it._ I ripped up my pant leg, exposing up to my mid-thigh. L's eyes seemed to widen even more than usual, if that was possible. I didn't have to look at myself to know why he reacted so.

He was looking at the pink surgical scar that ran from the front of my thigh to the back of my knee. He was examining the healing burns on my calf. Worst of all, I knew he was absorbing the entire sight and devoting it to memory.

He was looking at what I was now. He would never forget it.

I felt my face heat up slowly, then quicker with each passing moment he didn't say a word, just stared. Eventually, he reached out and gently ran his fingertip across the scar, then the burn, which still stung whenever they were in contact with anything. I was used to it by now. Then, the unbearable, he looked up to my face. I knew he was trying to read my expression like he did so easily before I left, but I'd learned to make my face blank as a slate. So I did. But every poker player has their tell.

My eyes. Damn my eyes for giving me away. I knew by the look in his that he could see right through me.

**AN:** sorry, I know that the quality of the writing sucks at the beginning. I'm better at writing in the first person, AKA as Summer.

Oh! I stopped going to tutoring classes that did nothing for me anyways, so I can type two more days a week! That means you might be getting more updates quicker!


	6. In Which I Feel Like Crap

**Chapter 6:**

**In Which I Feel Like Crap**

Yes, TBITF. This one's for you too.

Damn.

_Damn._

Damn myself a thousand times over. Not that it would do much, but still.

_Damn me to hell, anywhere, just get me out of _here_,_ I thought. L's eyes still stared at me. I felt like he could see trough me as if I were made of crystal. At that moment in time, among others, I wished that they would pierce through someone else, _any_where else, or simply shatter me into a thousand thousand splinters. Just so that he wouldn't look at me. Not like that. Not with that look in his eyes.

I covered the accident's markings on me quickly, jerking down my pant leg. I stared at my knees, willing myself to disappear at that moment in time. We've all done that, but it never works_. I can always hope…_ I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before checking. _Nope_. Still there.

L finally broke the heavy silence. "Why did you not come to us before?" I turned my face towards the window on my opposite side. I must've been out for a while. The sun was starting to slip below the horizon. I would have loved to see it over open waters…

L touched my hand with his fingertips, stealing me from my escape thoughts. "What do you mean?" I murmured in response. "I came back once I was out of the hospital."

"You know what I mean." L's voice was unusually sharp, less like the normal monotone I had remembered. "Look at me, Summer." When I didn't, L grabbed me by the tips of his fingers under my chin and made me look at him. He knew I hated that. He knew I hated to be forced to do anything. He also knew that was a sure fire way to get my attention. "Why didn't you tell us before? Why didn't you tell us what happened?"

I snapped my face away from his grasp, but looked at him still through my hanging bangs. They covered most of my face as I mumbled, "I couldn't do it."

Damn, I hated that. I hated having to admit things. It made me feel weak, like I had lost a battle of some sort. "Why couldn't you tell us, Summer?" I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see him stare at me the way he would a suspect when he was interrogating me. _That's what I am now…_ I realized. _The culprit of the Summer case crimes. And I'm cornered._ I looked at him through my hair. It was the same look.

"Do you really think it would be so easy for me to tell anyone what I am now?" I asked in a hysterical/desperate tone with a hint of frustration. "Does it make sense in that genius brain of yours to just give yourself to the unlikely mercy of the reactions of others? Nothing is that easy, that simple." I slapped my hand to my face, as if to squeegee the feelings off of it. Well, that doesn't exactly work. What? There's a _reason_ I never worked at a carwash. There also might be that little problem that I was never good with girly things like "getting in touch with your _feelings_." Matt is _so_ much better at that kind of stuff. Hah, come to think of it, so is Mello.

Hear _that, _you two? You're such girly men.

L asked quietly, "Aren't you the same Summer that left six months ago? Shouldn't it be that simple?"

I was shaking so slightly I almost didn't notice. "I don't know anymore. I don't…" I whispered. I swallowed down my emotions, trying to gulp down a wave of tears that was coming on. _No._ I refused to let myself cry. However, my resolve wasn't extraordinarily strong lately. "I wish I did," I started to choke on my own tears.

And you know what? At that moment, I didn't care.

What I did care about was the hand I felt on my shoulder and the arm draped across my back. I cared about the second arm that was wrapped around me the other way, over the hands I held to my face to hide the unbelievable tears sliding from my eyes.

Most of all, I cared about the song that he was singing to me.

"Little girl, little girl why are you crying?

Inside your restless soul your heart is dying.

Little one, little one your soul is purging,

Of love and razor blades your blood is surging."

I felt his breath move the loosely hanging hair by my ears as he sang that to me. L was as close to me now as he was six months ago, a little bit before I left. It felt good. It felt familiar.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as soon as my god-awful tears were done and gone. I wiped their remnants onto the edge of my sleeve. I felt weak and drained right then, but I ignored it. Instead, I shifted closer to him.

L held me out at arm's length. "Why were you crying?" he asked softly.

I closed my eyes again, turning my face down._ Because nothing as is simple as even you think. _ "Because I'm sorry," I murmured. Then I felt the urge to blurt out, "For- for not letting you all know. And for just running like that. For – for -," I stopped, laughing slightly as I mopped up my cheek again. "If I think of anything else, I'm sorry for that too."

I'll spare you the details, but there was much gut spilling and feelings of guilt and worthlessness on my side while L simply absorbed it all without comment. You have no idea how relieving it felt to have no judgment passed on what I've done or had to say.

After a while, I felt just a little brave and barely stable enough to say, "Okay. I'm ready to confess."

***

When I entered the small common room/kitchenette, the scene was perfectly normal. Normal for us, anyway. It was perfectly serene the half second before they saw me standing, conscious, in the doorway.

Watari was sitting calmly on the small sofa, sipping his tea in that nearly tangible English way he seems to emanate from the inside out. Near was sitting on the floor, putting together a multi-thousand-piece puzzle. Matt was trying to scrub my virus from his laptop still. _Heh heh, oopsie_. Mello was the one that spotted us as he was exiting the kitchenette, a bar of – you guessed it – chocolate in his mouth as he checked his weapon.

Then, the peace was shattered.

All faces turned towards me as Mello holstered his gun in the _front_ of his leather pants (I'll never understand _why_ he does that) and snapped the bar in half in his mouth, saying, "I should kick your fucking ass right now."

Before I could sling a stinging retort back, I was being crushed into oblivion by a new pair of arms. Then, I was collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath with a pained cheek. _Matt_ slapped _me?!_

Then, the arms were back, not so crushing anymore. I remembered these ones. They were more like the skinny boy arms I remembered from my childhood that would wrap around me on the few occasions I cried and the far more plentiful times I wanted to. I almost started to cry again. I almost did, I think.

I was held out at arms length for a second, still on the floor. "Where the hell've you been?" I smelled the familiar stench cigarettes on Matt's breath. _I thought he quit…_

I faked a cough, "Ew. Can't you stop smoking at least the cheap cigs?" I felt relief at the weakest and briefest of smiles from my brother. His goggles were surely leaving an impression on his forehead form all the time they've spent up there today alone.

Matt stood up then, offering me his hand for me to do the same. I took it, and instantly knew I'd made a mistake. You know why? Because six months ago, I wouldn't have needed or wanted to.

With a bit of hesitation, Matt pulled me up to my full height of 5'4"- ness before letting go of my hand. Without thinking, I limped over to the couch, where Watari lent me his arm in his gentlemanly way. I stared straight into my lap as the others settled around me. Matt, of course, was sitting beside me, staring at my crippled leg. _Wow, no pressure_. Near sat in his half-L position (as I called it in my mind) on the other side of Watari who sat beside me. To complete my udder paranoia of being boxed in, Mello sat directly in front of me, on the short table. L was still unobtrusively in the doorway.

Without much ado, I told them about my little accident.

**AN:** sorry if this is short-ish (wow, my computer hates it when I use –ish), but I was trying to update as per usual for y'all. The song, by the way, is called Viva La Gloria? (Little Girl) by Green Day on their new album, 21st Century Breakdown.


	7. The Accident

**Chapter 7:**

**The Accident**

ThreeBooksInTheFire. Do I even have to say it?

I took a deep breath to steady myself before starting. "You all remember why I left, of course? To go to the conference in the middle east?" I didn't have to look up to know their reactions. They knew. They knew that I knew I would be at risk. They hated that I knew that as well and had chosen to go anyways.

"It was raining…"

* * *

It really was raining that night. You know that one line Snoopy starts off on the typewriter every time? "It was a dark and stormy night…." The conference had concluded for the time being because of an impasse between two diplomats, the airheads. It had to be very late, or very early judging by the way my eyelids were trying to fall and blind me. I had, of course, been warned not to walk to where I was staying. It was dangerous for a woman who wasn't a soldier or wasn't wearing something that covered her from head to toe. I wore normal clothes and a head wrap, respectively.

I grabbed a ride from a taxi driver who was waiting outside the conference. He looked shaky, like he'd had a bit to drink. I almost didn't want to know, but I asked him and he denied. Then I realized it wasn't that he'd been drinking, but instead he was nervous. His eyes never stopped moving for longer than a second or two, like he was trying to find a lost sweet something. I shrugged it off. This wasn't the safest place to be anyways. Mortars could fall on us just as easily as the rain at any time.

I read his driver's plate in the cab as a smiling picture of the man stared up at me. I read the foreign words easily, not bothering with the English translation. 'Ali Amar'.

"_Amar_?" the man looked back at me as he clambered into his seat. "_Is there a problem? Is something wrong_?"

The man turned around again, sighing, putting the rusty mess into gear. "_Soldiers roam the streets in packs, children are hungry and women are left without husbands. What else is wrong here? No, I am only afraid. Bullets can rain just as easily as water_." He spared me a glance through the rear-view mirror. "_Even in the green zones, we are afraid. But that is what you are trying to fix, yes? The ambassadors will stop this soon_?"

I sighed softly, letting my lead-laced eyelids slide shut as I spoke. "_The ambassadors are uncooperative, and threats from the rogue cells don't help the matter at all_," I murmured, just loud enough for myself to hear. "_We are trying, but I am only a translator in the matter. I cannot help much further than that_."

"_Mmm_," he hummed. "_I can imagine. Those diplomats must be difficult, no? The bomb-threats must be of no help_." He sighed. "_They are made mostly to scare, but I am still afraid to go down the streets, for what if they aren't only threats? But I tell myself, 'Do not fear, that is what they want, Ali.' But still_," he stopped the car, jolting me from my half-sleep, "_still I do not want to drive here. A threat was made on this very street." He turned to me. "Do you fear? Should I find another way around_?"

I stared down the street. It was the same as any other street in the city. I knew what Matt would've done, if he were here with me. '_Take the other street, driver. I won't take chances with my sister._' That chauvinist pig. Even if he wouldn't say it, that would be the thought running across his lame brain. You know how brothers work. "_I do not know, Amar. I am no expert on these threats. I can only cross my fingers and pray_." I looked him in the eyes through the rear-view mirror.

After that, I do not know what happened. Couldn't tell you if I wanted to. Or maybe I do know, and won't. Maybe I didn't lean my head back on the upholstery and close my eyes. Maybe I didn't see what happened through my eyelids. Maybe I saw the explosion, the flooring rip towards the rain and up my leg. Maybe I saw the mine in the road after all, slightly uncovered by runoff of water in the dirt street. But I didn't. So I couldn't tell you what happened, because I laid my head back on the sun-battered upholstery and closed my eyes.

And then, I woke up.

* * *

"And then, I woke up," I finished. I had been looking past everyone most of the time. "I woke up at the hospital and I called Matt. I got on a plane and here I am." The glaze faded from my eyes as I sighed, shaking away thoughts of sand and bombs and places stuck in the Middle East. "And then, I'm greeted by having L launch into me like a very angry Semi-truck driver on absolute crack, the absolutely devastating loss of my hat, and being slapped by my twin. And I haven't been interrupted in the past five minutes, so now I am forced to ask the question of where are my detectives and what have you done with them?" I took a deep breath from using all possible air in my lungs in the dialogue you have seen in this paragraph. I finally worked up the guts to look my brother in the eye. "Seriously, slapping me? What the hell?"

Matt had his elbows on his knees and looked down. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. He sighed, his shoulders slumping further than slumped. He stood up, snapping his orange-lens goggles over his eyes once more. "Let's talk, Summs. You and me." He didn't look at me. He just got up and walked out into the hall, leaving me with no choice but to follow.

* * *

**A/N**: After I got out of the flashback funk, when it says "And then, I woke up," I considered adding, "and my pillow was gone." And if you weren't thinking it, my reader, well, it's a very common joke and I don't care if the people who know it are throwing their screens out the windows because at first they thought they were safe from me being a dumb ass. I blame my lack of bagels.

…and giant writer's block…

And did I mention I'm really, really sorry? Like, really and truly and I've been having crap go on at home? And I'm really, really stupid? And-and-yeeaaaaaah….

…I don't think you think I deserve the right to ask for a review, so I won't….


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